Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Colenso, Colleagues, Creativity, Culture, Cunning, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Happiness, Health, Home, Hope, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Martin Weigel, Mercedes, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents, Paul, Queen, Relationships, Resonance, Rosie, Shelly
So this is it, the last post of 2022.
Again, I want to say a big thank you to everyone and anyone who has read or commented on my ranting rubbish.
I have to say, I miss the comments.
I know it was my choice to stop them, but I do miss them – so maybe I’ll have to bring them back, even though I’ve become waaaaaaay more productive since they’ve been turned off as I don’t have to spend vast amounts of my time checking what insults have been written to me and about me, hahaha.
But lack of comments aside, it’s been a big year … mainly because it has been the first year in a couple of years without any lock-down. And yet I still find it bizarre seeing people not wearing masks and being able to get on a plane again.
To think of the isolation, suffering and pain so many people suffered, the speed of the bounce-back has taken my breath away. Of course there are still people enduring tough times … but given the horror of the pandemic has seemingly been replaced by the threat of nuclear war and economic collapse, maybe COVID wasn’t so bad after all.
That said, I’m so grateful for the ability to travel again as it meant I was able to go on a trip that I’ll never, ever forget.
A trip where I got to see my beloved Martin getting married in Portugal.
A trip where I got to see my beloved Nottingham Forest getting promoted at Wembley.
A trip where I got to see my beloved Queen in concert with a ticket I bought 2 years earlier.
A trip where I got to see my beloved Paul, after the longest time we’ve been apart in 52 years.
It was, without exaggeration, one of the most special times in my life … with stuff I thought I may never see – or see again – so you will understand why I still feel so grateful to be able to have experienced it.
But beyond that, there were many other things that made this year memorable.
We did some fun work including Beyond Binary, Rick and Morty, Phone It In and Give Up On Humans. Our agency Christmas gift was interesting too. I say interesting, but I mean ridiculous, especially compared to last years more sophisticated Restraining Order, haha.
I wrote a pretty decent April Fools post that conned a few people.
And then, more seriously, I wrote some posts about my dalliance with depression, fulfilment, prejudice and respect that seemed to mean something to people, which made me feel happy it helped in some way.
I worked with Metallica, Miley Cyrus, Muse and Journey, to different degrees of success and enjoyment, hahaha.
We produced Dream Small … which I’m not only very proud of, but has led to conversations and change I never imagined we could have.
The way Otis – and his school – dealt with his dysgraphia diagnosis.
I celebrated my Mum’s 90th.
I got to see the wonderful Maya and Bree again, after years.
I was somehow featured in a book.
My Bohemian Catsody office mural … featuring Rosie amongst others.
I laughed myself stupid about Gi’s shit explosion while also being proud as punch of my wonderful team with our WARC/Cannes Global Grand Prix for effectiveness … followed up with us winning the same achievement at the NZ Effies … followed up by us winning the Global Grand Effie a few weeks later.
Renovating the old Colenso table to give it – and the irrepressible, unmistakeable Kate Maitland – the respect and recognition they deserve.
Lizzie and Amy’s news.
And Paula’s wonderful ray of sunshine.
Then finding the brilliant Briar and Shelly … with Martin and Meg arriving in Jan. [Which in Meg’s case, is almost 2 years in the waiting]
And last – but certainly not least – seeing Boris get pushed out quickly [literally and figuratively] by Liz Truss, even though the evil Tories somehow remain in power.
Of course there was some sad and disappointing stuff.
The loss of the irreplaceable and wonderful Dan Wieden.
Queenie … which hit me far more than I ever imagined it would.
Ben. Who left us too soon.
Mike’s motorcycle accident.
Henry, Liam and Robin left the team.
My first dalliance with COVID. And Jill too.
The bullshit that Simon P was forced to deal with and face.
Not to mention the horrible situation one of our clients was exposed to by the worst of society.
And then too many terrible global events, with the situations in Ukraine and Iran being possibly the worst of them all. What makes these last two even more disturbing is how the media only pay lip service to them. As if they don’t deem the horrors ‘relevant’ enough for their viewers and readers so they hide it on pages 5 and 6 … behind articles on energy bills, political scandal and sports scores.
I know it’s Christmas, but instead of having that one extra drink or buying that one shitty pressie, donating that money to organisations who offer support and help would be amazing. Two of them are this for Ukraine and this for Iran.
2022 has reminded me how privileged and comfortable my life is.
While compared to many, I have only experienced that sort of life, there have been times that have challenged me.
1999 was horrid.
As was 2015.
And last December was arguably, the worst month I’ve ever faced.
But this year, from a purely personal perspective, has generally been pretty special for me and one of the biggest reasons for that is my family.
I know we’re all supposed to say that, but it’s true.
Not just for who they are, but because for some reason, I feel we got even closer.
Emotionally.
Supportively.
Connectively.
To be honest, I thought we were already as close as you can be, but I discovered there’s actually no limit to the level of connection you can feel with loved ones and that has left me feeling a bit overwhelmed.
Maybe it’s because NZ is so far from everyone, we feel closer to each other. Maybe it’s because we don’t see the people we love so often, we have become more reliant on each other. Maybe it’s because we just have gone through some stuff that it reinforced how special we are to each other. Maybe it’s for reasons I’ve not wanted to admit before because it challenges the priorities I’ve lived by before.
Who knows, but what I can say is I love my ramshackle collection of Campbell’s.
Including Rosie, of course.
They’re not perfect.
They can drive me nuts.
But they’re mine and I adore every bit of them.
Which is why I want to sign off by saying to them – and to the rest of you – that whatever you do over this period, I hope it gives you all you want and all you need. I am grateful for everything every one of you put in my life and I hope 2023 – as scary as many are suggesting it will be – will surprise us all with its happiness and fulfilment.
Just as long as mine is happier and more fulfilling than yours.
Hey, I may be getting more tolerant in my old age, but I’m still as only-child demanding as ever.
Have a great one. Back Feb 1. I hope to see you in 2023.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Context, Creativity, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Differentiation, Distinction, Diversity, Education, Effectiveness, Emotion, Empathy, Equality, Family, Fatherhood, Government, Happiness, Imagination, Inclusion, Individuality, Insight, Jill, Love, Management, Marketing, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Perspective, Prejudice, Relevance, Resonance, Respect, Social Divide, Standards, Teamwork, Trust
I recently saw this piece of brilliance …
Isn’t it awesome?
Of course some people will think it’s cute … but wrong.
Whereas others may think it’s cute … and smart.
Putting aside the fact the responsibility for clarity of communication is with the communicator, not the recipient – which means the exam board have to accept their role in the answer given – it also highlights how one persons ‘normal’ is another persons ‘lateral thinking’.
I know that sounds a big leap for what is a young kids incorrect/correct answer to an exam question … but at a time where the British PM wants to kill the arts and freedom of expression for kids in schools – in favour of even more logical and rational studies – it’s a sign how early we try to destroy/control/devalue the imaginations of the young.
What I find ironic about the British PM’s stance is that he seems to be of the belief that having people study maths for longer will make everything better.
Putting aside the fact that much of the UK’s global influence – ignoring the violent invasions of other countries – has come from the arts, that’s a big call to make.
Even more so when you consider the financial mess the UK is in right now, has come from the hands of the very people he wants to encourage more of.
As a parent this situation is very difficult.
Of course we want our children to be set up to embrace life. But if they’re all being taught the same thing … in the same way … without consideration of what their own personal talents, interests and abilities are … then are you actually preparing them to thrive or simply survive?
Recently Otis got diagnosed with a learning difficulty.
I say difficulty, but really it’s a complication.
It’s called Dysgraphia.
While this doesn’t affect his ability to learn, it does affect how he does it and what he may be able to do because of it.
We are incredibly grateful the school he goes to – Birkenhead Primary – not only embraced this situation by changing the way he could engage and present his schoolwork. They did it by specifically tailoring their classes and approach to ensure Otis could participate in ways that actively played to his strengths while maintaining the pace of everyone’s learning. And if that wasn’t impressive enough … they were the ones who first noticed there may be an area of challenge for him and were proactive in acting on it.
The impact of this approach on Otis has been enormous.
Not just in areas of his schoolwork that were being impacted because of dysgraphia, but in his overall confidence, enjoyment and willingness to participate.
He has always been a kid who tries hard and wants to do the right thing [so definitely more like Jill than me] … but thanks to his teachers, he now feels he can express himself fully rather than having to become a smaller version of himself in an attempt to find a way to get through certain areas of class that challenged him because of his dysgraphia rather than his ability.
Frankly I doubt this would have happened if we were still in the UK.
Not because the teachers aren’t as good, but because the system doesn’t allow the sort of deviation of approach that Otis’ school created for him.
What’s scary is Sunak’s attitude towards education will only make this situation for kids like Otis, even harder.
Either actively leaving them behind or setting them up for a life of anxiety, guilt and feelings of inadequacy. And yet it doesn’t have to be that way.
So many of these complications aren’t barriers to learning capacity, just accessibility.
A bit of flexibility can unlock the full potential of a child, especially with the power of technology these days.
But the schooling system is increasingly about ‘targets’ rather than learning.
Preparing you for exams rather than life.
Systems rather than needs.
And while I totally accept creating an education system that caters to the masses as well as the edges is incredibly difficult, having a one-dimensional system that ‘succeeds’ by forcing compliance and oppression is not the solution either.
What the British PM needs to understand is making kids study maths for longer isn’t going to solve the UK’s economic woes. But maybe designing an education system that enables teachers to help kids learn how to play to their strengths, is.
Or to paraphase Sir Ken Robinson … see creativity and imagination as a strength, not a weakness.
We’re so lucky Otis’ school values potential rather than parity … but I can’t help but wonder how many other clever kids are out there who have been written off simply because the system would not allow for them to be recognised, embraced and helped.
When will certain governments understand an educated generation is a successful nation?
Probably when they understand school should be about learning not teaching and it’s an investment rather than a cost.
Filed under: Dad, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Health, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Paul
So this week has been a rollercoaster of posts hasn’t it.
Some daft … some attempting to be useful and far too many about postboxes.
So as the final post of the week, I’m going to leave you with something serious.
Suicide.
Specifically mine.
Just to be clear, I’m good. But something happened recently that reminded me of a time when I wasn’t.
A couple of weeks ago I was driving home pretty late when the song Nights In White Satin came on the radio.
Within seconds, I was transported back 37 years.
At my desk.
In my bedroom.
In my family home.
The reading lamp to my right hand side, shining brightly against the yellow curtains that were closed against the dark night sky.
That song playing in the background.
Deciding if I was going to kill myself.
I don’t mean that in the dramatic fashion of a 15 year old kid who is having a bad day. I mean it exactly as it is written.
I had never told a soul about this – no one – until I talked to my wife two days ago.
In some ways, I’d kind-of forgotten about it – or I’d convinced myself I had – except the moment I heard that song, it all came back. Tumbling out of me like an uncontrollable mass of messy feelings, memories and emotions.
Where every detail was so clear, I could almost smell it, let alone touch it.
The thing is, it was not even a particularly hard time in my life. I was to experience much more challenging stuff in the next 5 years, and yet I never considered ending my life then.
I distinctly remember thinking how Mum and Dad would feel if they found my dead body. Wondering if they’d understand it was nothing to do with them. Hoping they wouldn’t blame themselves. Then wondering how I’d get on with doing it.
My Mum and Dad were downstairs in the lounge. Literally beneath my feet so I knew I had to choose a method that wouldn’t attract their attention.
Obviously I didn’t go through with it.
In fact I didn’t go further than running the edge of the blade up and down the inside of my arm. But hearing that song reminded me how focused I was about it. How much I was considering it. How much I wondered if it would set me free me from the pain I was in.
And yet no one knew or would know how I was feeling.
To most people, I was happy and full of life. And I was … but there were times where I felt darkness would just turn up to fuck with me.
An all-consuming blackness that would envelop me in the blink of an eye. Set off by the smallest of triggers. Sometimes so small, I didn’t even realise it.
Then gone just as fast.
Something I’d put down to ‘getting out of bed the wrong side’ … when it was most likely depression.
Never diagnosed, but probably that.
It’s why the recent CALM campaign – where they showed the last photo of people who then chose to die by suicide – is so powerful.
None of the people look like they’re in pain.
None look like they’re struggling.
And maybe at that second they weren’t. Or maybe they were but had found a way to compartmentalise it. Or maybe they just didn’t want the people they were with to suspect – for reasons of compassion or to ensure nothing could stop their plan. I don’t know. Everyone is different. But whatever the reason, I think I get it … which is why this campaign is so powerful and so important.
The thing I don’t really understand is why some situations lead you to the absolute edge and some don’t. Why some cross that line and some don’t. Or can’t. I’m sure there’s professionals who can explain the reason, but all I know is I’ve faced a number of moments in my life that were of incredible pain and sadness and yet none of them came close to how I felt that day when I was a kid at home. Except once. Where I found myself in the same place. Wanting to rub myself out. Literally rub myself out. Like a stain. Over and over again. Believing – and hoping – that was the only way the pain could stop. Except in that case, I knew what had caused it and was able to talk to people before the idea took on a greater life of its own.
Fortunately those are the only occasions in my 52 years of life where I have gone to the edge. Where my thoughts were about how I’d do it rather than if I would. And while I still don’t really know what interrupted the path I was going down, I’ve learnt to not just recognise the signs when things may be going dark, but how openness and communication always lets in the light.
At least for me.
I have no problem saying I sought out professional help.
And there have been other occasions where I’ve gone for advice on things I’m trying to work out or seem to have a disproportionate hold on me.
I distinctly remember the first time I told my parents I’d been to see a councillor and they were shocked.
Shocked I felt I needed it.
Shocked I hadn’t gone to them first.
Shocked they hadn’t recognised where my head was at.
But it was good because it opened a conversation we would never have had. One that opened up understanding and support. And when I say understanding and support … I mean it in the sense they realised there were occasions when I felt talking to an outsider would be better for me than an insider. Not because they’d done anything wrong – because frankly, my parents gave me a level of love and encouragement that was breath-taking and unconditional – but it just was better for me.
A chance to talk to someone I didn’t care about.
No history.
No worry of upsetting.
No need to choose my words carefully.
I know my parents probably felt some sort of pain, sadness and guilt about me not turning to them … but they were also incredibly supportive knowing it was helping me … which is why I was able to talk to them openly about it afterwards.
And while I’ve never been in as dark a place as those two occasions – even when my parents passed – I know the circumstances for its emergence can be wide and varied.
Which is why I get very frustrated when people minimise the reality of mental health. That it’s a symbol of weakness. That it’s a ‘woke’ attitude. I also get upset when it is narrowed down to being ignited by a particular set of behaviours or situations.
Sure there are likely some common factors, but in my experience the trigger and the effect is personal not universal. To suggest otherwise not only minimises the impact but ignores the individual.
I was blessed to be born into a family that encouraged showing and sharing their emotions. Maybe if that wasn’t the case I may have ended up in a worse place. But it’s also why we place great importance on creating an environment for Otis that normalises it.
That doesn’t tell him, “boys don’t cry” or pushes him to play sport when he doesn’t want to play sport or discounts his feelings simply because he’s 7.
I’m not saying this will stop him having mental health issues in the future … but hopefully it will help him feel it’s normal. And let him know that with help – whether that is talking about it or getting professional help for it – he can better manage it.
And you can.
That said, I appreciate the privilege I have being able to talk openly about this. I am an old white man and so the ramifications on me being open about what I’ve gone through is far less than if I was a woman, a person of colour, non-binary, a member of the LGBTQ+ community or just younger in age.
And that’s kind-of why I am, because that’s fucked. Mental health can affect everyone … and while the triggers may be varied, the devastation of its impact can be the same.
To have people feel they can’t acknowledge or discuss their situation doesn’t make it go away. It makes it worse. Much, much worse. And for all the supposed claims from companies saying they are compassionate to those experiencing mental health challenges, many have found it’s either true until the company needs something from them or they just can’t risk any possible financial implications by speaking out.
[Which sounds awfully similar to how companies manage the redundancy process doesn’t it?]
Which is why if anyone out there feels they’re in a situation where they don’t know how or who to talk to … drop me a line. I am not qualified to help. But I would be very happy to listen.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Brand, Comment, Confidence, Context, Craft, Creativity, Culture, Cunning, Devious Strategy, Distinction, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Love, Loyalty, Membership, Perspective, Relationships, Relevance, Resonance, Respect
Like most things in life, there tends to be 2 sorts of people.
Those who chase the cash.
Those who chase their passion.
Or said another way, the business folks and the creative folks.
But one thing I’ve learned from working with a number of highly successful bands over the last few years is this.
Those who chase cash can be hugely financially successful, but they’ll never achieve the level of creative respect those who chase their passion will receive.
Now you may go, “who cares, they’re rich”.
But here’s the thing …
People who chase their passion can end up being even more financially successful than those who simply chase the cash.
Sure, it doesn’t happen often, but it also happens more than you may imagine. And when it does, that’s when things get really interesting.
I’m working on a project for a band [not Metallica] that is – quite simply – bonkers.
Not just bonkers in terms of what they want to do, but why they want to do it.
And why do they want to do it?
Because they their die-hard fans to be properly rewarded for their die-hard loyalty.
I don’t mean that in terms of getting early access to something they have to pay for – which is the way many companies think loyalty works. I mean rewarding them with something that has real – and long term – economic and emotional value to them.
Obviously I can’t go into specifics … both for the fact I’d be murdered and there’s still a fuck-ton of hurdles to be dealt if we stand any chance of pulling this off … but what I’ve loved seeing is how artists who have built their fortune as a byproduct of their passion [rather than just a focus on the cash] seem to reach a point where they kinda turn into a musical version of Robin Hood.
I should point out this does not mean they suddenly start doing things for free.
Nor do I mean they start giving all their money away.
There may do some of that but by then, they’ve finally learnt the value of their value.
No, what I mean is they put a lot of effort into ensuring their long-term fans feel the respect the artist has for them and all they’ve done for them … and one way they are increasingly doing this is by finding ways to ‘steal’ from the rich, so they can reward the loyal.
Case in point.
Billy Joel.
In 2014 he started a residency at Madison Square Gardens and vowed to keep playing there once a month until his concerts stop selling out.
Well, he’s still playing … and given he allegedly makes US$3-4 million per show, it’s proven to be an incredible relationship.
But this is where it gets fun …
You see Billy Joel no longer allows the first row of the venue to have people sitting in it.
There are 2 main reasons for this.
1. It stops scalpers from making huge money off him.
2. He hated looking down and seeing rich people looking back at him. Not really into the evening, just there because they could afford the seats and could brag about it to their friends.
So instead, every time he plays, he gets his crew to find fans who are sitting in the worst seats in the venue and gets them to bring them down and give them the best seats in the front row. People who are really happy to be there – not for the bragging rights – but for the chance to get the best view of an artists they love, singing the songs they adore.
In essence, he uses the wealth of the uber-rich to pay for the seats for the real fans.
Giving them the night of their life and letting Billy show that money can buy lots of things, but it can’t buy the respect he has for his true fans.
Now before anyone slags this post … or Billy off.
While I appreciate what he’s doing is not perfect … it’s more considerate, respectful and loyal than 95% of companies who talk a great game in terms of their customers/employees being their greatest asset right until the point it actually might result in costing them more than they want to spend.
Which is why I’d rather be loyal to a kinda musical version of Robin Hood than a smiling snake.
And before I go, I just want to leave you with my favourite little film about Metallica.
Unlike the Billy Joel story, this is not about repaying fan loyalty – at least not in the way I’ve just described how Billy Joel has. This is more about the sentimentality the band has for people and places that they believe has had a significant impact on the life of the band.
I’ve written about this before, but whereas that was about their ongoing relationship with Cliff Burton’s father … this is about one of James’ guitars.
That might not sound enticing, but I assure you it is.
Because while this film talks about where this guitar came from … what it represents and how it was crafted to have even greater meaning and significance to James and the band … it’s really a story of loyalty, legacy and love.
Enjoy. They’ve come a loooooooong way since Some Kind Of Monster, ha.
Filed under: America, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Childhood, China, Comment, Culture, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Environment, Family, Home, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Respect, School
3 different nationalities.
4 different countries [In 4 different continents]
5 different homes.
4 different schools.
Two major long lockdowns.
All of this in just 6 – but soon to be 7 – short years.
And yet despite all that change … all that waving goodbye and learning to say new hellos … he remains a happy, curious, cheeky and compassionate kid.
And while he loved his life in China, America and the UK … he is blossoming in NZ.
Sure, some of that is because he has been able to get back into some sort of routine, meet new friends and play with other kids his own age – at least until Delta struck and he got locked down with his parents for weeks on end – but it’s more than that …
Outdoor life is a way of life here.
Being outside is no longer a conscious choice.
The line between indoors and outdoors is now very slim.
No need to change clothes. No need to wear shoes. Spontaneity is allowed to flow which – let’s be honest – is exactly how a kid should be able to live their life.
I’ve lived in similar environments before … in Australia and America for example … but whether it’s because I’m older or now live in a bloody treehouse or have a kid of my own, I appreciate it so much more.
Watching him be able to run around outside is a real privilege.
Of course, for people born here, that’s a normality … but I have lived in environments where that’s not the case, which is why even seeing him watch his iPad in the sun is something I don’t take for granted.
We cannot discount the importance of being able to play outside, but sadly many governments and councils seem to.
Viewing it as ‘a favour’ rather than a fundamental right.
Playing outside helps kids in so many ways.
Bond … learn … imagine … express … play … explore … compete … respect.
It’s not a ‘waste of time’, it creates a deeper foundation for life.
An ability to think outside of lines and others definitions.
Giving kids an environments where they can be outside is basically an investment in a countries future.
A nation of curious, interested, healthy people.
But not everyone gets this.
Some actively try to stop this.
Often people of immense privilege who either associate outdoor life as something for either the elite or the rough.
Fortunately NZ does not see it this way.
They revel and celebrate it.
They have the best parks I’ve ever seen in my life.
Parks made to enjoy and encourage kids to push their boundaries.
A new discovery of what you’re capable of with every visit.
And while for most kids it’s about developing, for Otis it’s also about grounding.
A place he can feel is his.
A connection to where he lives in a way he’s not had before.
Because while he is young, I do not underestimate what he has been through.
Fuck, there’s people I have worked with who have literally freaked out when asked to move office desks … and yet here’s my kid, who has moved countries, homes and friends and still embraces the possibilities of every situation.
So much of that is down to his brilliant Mum who has helped that change happen in the most comfortable, seamless way … but it still requires a mindset to look at what you’ll gain rather than just what you lose.
And while I know one day I’ll no doubt be dragging him off for another adventure somewhere else on the planet [but don’t worry, it won’t be for ages. Probably] I want you to know that I love you from tip to toe and let you know I’m so, so proud to be your dad.
Thank you Otis, you’re a little legend.